


Comforter

by yeaka



Series: Yutopian Zoo [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Traits, Dry Humping, Ficlet, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 05:55:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12788472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Victor visits the zoo, though his favourite serow’s off in isolation.





	Comforter

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is set in the same partial-animal AU as some of my other ficlets, but it’s stand-alone and you don’t need to read them for this. (Also this zoo is not even remotely realistic.)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuri on Ice or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

For the second time in a row, Yuuri isn’t there. Victor’s carefully come after the rush, late in the evening when the zoo’s heavy foot traffic is starting to die down, and the Japanese serow exhibit isn’t one of the more popular places anyway, so it’s not as though Yuuri has a lot to hide from. Victor walks around the entire enclosure—at least, the part that’s open to the public—three times, diligently scanning the thick foliage on each go. He’s got Yuuri’s handsome face memorized, and he knows exactly what shade of peach, silver-grey, and jet-black to look for. But Yuuri’s nowhere to be found, and Victor’s... _worried_.

He knows the zoo makes no promises. You don’t get to come for one specific animal, but he _does_. His first visit was on Yakov’s suggestion—he’d said skating had lost its luster, and his coach suggested seeking inspiration in raw nature. A zoo seemed a good place to start. One of the staff said serows were graceful, though another three later told him the exact opposite. By then, he’d already latched on. Yuuri’s the closest thing Victor’s ever had to a true _muse_ , and the last two programs he’s had he choreographed himself, whilst thinking the entire time of a certain gorgeous hybrid that shyly hides about the trees.

Or at least, Yuuri used to do that. When they first met, he’d keep his distance from the fence until bidden closer, ears twitching nervously and body tense to bolt. But then Yuuri opened up to him and started drifting nearer, weaving down the gentle slopes of the exhibit every time Victor would appear. Yuuri always came to him. Now Victor cups his hands around his mouth, shouting, “ _Yuuri!_ ” way louder than he should, but there’s no answer.

He tries again anyway, then does another quick circle of the enclosure, hoping to find something new. He doesn’t.

He’s just about to give up—it’s getting late anyway, the sky starting to darken and the zoo probably near closing—when he spots a handler coming out of the nearest building, carrying a bucket and brush towards the serow fence. The man wears the plain green clothes of the zoo staff, and before Victor has time to think, he’s rushing over. When he gets close enough, he can read the cheap nametag pinned to the man’s breast. Just as the man reaches the serow gate, fastened with a simple key lock, Victor asks, “Phichit?”

The man—Phichit—instantly looks over, a friendly smile already donning on his young face. He greets, “Hello,” and then, “what can I help you with?”

“You work with the serows?” Victor asks, gesturing into the now-empty exhibit, though he saw a dark-haired serow-woman near the back caves earlier. Yuuri said he never goes in those—the other buck marked them, apparently. Phichit nods and sets his bucket—full of soapy water—down onto the pavement. As far as Victor knows, there’re currently only three human-serow hybrids in the zoo, so the staff should be able to track them. “Do you know where Yuuri is?”

At the mention of Yuuri’s name, Phichit’s bright expression abruptly falters. For a split second, Victor flies into a panic—something awful has happened—how long do hybrids live?—is there a vet/doctor on call?—but his heart is allowed to beat again when Phichit tells him, “He’s in the back. We have to separate the males from the doe during rut season.” Victor’s face scrunches up—he doesn’t understand, neither what that means nor why Phichit’s frowning over it. Phichit slowly adds, “We have a separate pen not open to visitors for when they’re... well...” He gestures vaguely aside. Victor still doesn’t understand.

He just hears: “Yuuri’s in a separate pen? With... with the other male...?”

“By himself,” Phichit corrects. “The other one we have is more, ah... aggressive... he’ll try to mate with Yuuri if we let them near each other, and Yuuri doesn’t want that... the doe does, though, so we let her in with the other male when she wants it.” He doesn’t mention any other names—Victor almost wonders if that’s normal for staff talking to patrons, and Yuuri’s name is only mentioned because Victor said it first. 

He knows the rest shouldn’t be any of his business, but he still finds himself asking, “So... who do you let in with Yuuri?”

“No one,” Phichit tells him, which makes him oddly relieved, until Phichit sighs, “It’s sad, really. Yuuri’s such a sweet thing, and he gets so lonely during rut, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I mean, I go in to pet him sometimes and check that he’s eating alright, but he gets embarrassed about his state and doesn’t really like having me around it.” Phichit does look genuinely bothered. Victor is too. The thought of Yuuri penned up all alone, isolated from his natural habitat and his exhibit-mates, and even the occasional visitor, sounds horribly sad. Victor probably wouldn’t make it more than a week without human contact—or human-animal contact, even. He thinks of asking how long the rut season is but almost doesn’t want to know.

He and Phichit share an awkward moment of silence. Victor evaluates his options. His wants. And then how much Phichit appears to care about Yuuri’s well being versus whatever stringent policies the zoo probably has. 

When Phichit finally breaks the stand-off by fiddling with the keys attached to his belt, Victor tries, “Could I see him?” Phichit’s head snaps up, and Victor puts on his most charming smile, beaming at Phichit as though he hasn’t asked anything out of the ordinary. 

Phichit frowns. He starts, “We’re really not supposed to let patrons back there...”

And because that isn’t a flat out ‘no,’ Victor presses, “ _Please_? Just for a short visit? You have to at least tell Yuuri I came to see him—I’m sure it’ll cheer him up.” 

Phichit visibly waffles. Victor leans forward imploringly. Then Phichit cracks and asks, “What’s your name?”

“Victor Nikiforov,” Victor says with ease, and when something sparks in Phichit’s eyes, he thinks it might win him some extra points—maybe Phichit knows someone who follows figure skating, hopefully a fan, that’ll gush to Phichit that he should let _the_ Victor Nikiforov do whatever he likes. 

Instead, Phichit breaks into a grin and chirps, “Oh, you must be _that_ Victor! Yuuri’s mentioned you!” Phichit pauses suddenly, tanned cheeks flushing, but he carries on: “They sort of ramble like this, when they’re in rut, and sometimes a name is all they get out—our other buck whines our doe’s name all the time, but ‘Victor’s the only one Yuuri’s ever said. I wondered who he was talking about.” As a dually surprised and honoured blush spreads over Victor’s face, Phichit looks around him, furtively peering in all directions. Then Phichit leans in and whispers, “Okay, I’ll sneak you in—but you can’t tell anyone, okay? And you have to be careful—a serow in rut, part human or not, will still try to mount a full-human sometimes, and the smell’s awful all the time. Just try to breathe through your mouth, and don’t mention it, okay? Yuuri’s self-conscious.” 

Victor nods eagerly, because he’ll do whatever it takes to get him inside. Yuuri’s a little shorter than him, maybe a bit thicker, but only slightly—Victor’s confident he can handle Yuuri, and he can’t picture Yuuri smelling bad at all. Phichit abruptly abandons his bucket, dropping the brush down into it, and he turns back for the building, gesturing Victor after him. Victor swiftly follows. 

The first room they enter is more a messy office than anything, with a battered desk against one wall and an overstuffed bulletin board Victor doesn’t get a proper look at—Phichit briskly takes him down a hall on the other side, peeking carefully around each corner before bringing Victor after him. Victor is fine playing spy—he doesn’t want to risk getting caught and kept from Yuuri any longer. Through an open room packed with large containers that smell like dog food, and Phichit takes them to an enormous gymnasium-like area lined with doors. Victor can instantly tell why the gates here are floor-to-ceiling—the place _reeks_. Phichit tells him off-handedly, “We clean regularly and try to keep the really smelly ones behind these supposedly scent-proof enclosures, but it still gets through.” The door of the large stall they go to isn’t locked, but inside is another small area partitioned off by a clear wall, and this Phichit fetches a key for. On the other side is something of an indoor forest, with short, manicured trees and a layer of dirt that doesn’t look too deep. The floor’s uncannily even for a wooded area, and Victor can’t help a stab of sorrow for Yuuri—this can’t be much like Yuuri’s natural habitat at all, never mind that the place is distinctly warm, and he knows Yuuri misses the cold.

Once Phichit’s unlocked the glass-like sliding door, he cautiously opens it, peering into the forest as though Yuuri could come barreling out at any second. But nothing moves. The artificial ceiling lights are kept at a mellow level, thought Victor can’t yet see Yuuri between the trees. He hopes the area’s bigger than it looks. 

Waving a hand in front of his scrunched up nose, Phichit steps back and tells him, “Okay, I can give you a few minutes, but don’t be too long, okay? I’ve got half a dozen fences to scrub down tonight before I have to go feed the tigers—you wouldn’t believe the stuff our youngest will roar if I’m a minute late.”

Victor nods his understanding and sidles through the ajar door, only to reel back a second later when he’s hit with it. The collective animal smell outside is nauseating, but the singular smell _inside_ Yuuri’s pen is...

Victor _likes_ it. He’s taken a long whiff before he can stop himself, and the tangy aroma ripples through him like sweet champagne. He finds himself following it, numbly stepping forward through the dirt and sparse foliage. He disappears through the trees, just out of sight of the barrier, and just a few steps later, he spots a familiar figure huddled against the base of a tree. Yuri’s curled in on himself, knees to his chest and face buried in his arms. But his head snaps up as soon as Victor approaches him, and his chocolate brown eyes go absurdly wide. Victor brought him glasses last month, but they’re gone now, and judging from how dilated Yuuri’s pupils already are, they wouldn’t help much anyway. 

Yuuri mumbles, “Victor,” in awed reverence. Like he never thought he’d see Victor again and it broke him. Victor sinks down to his knees. He doesn’t care if his jeans get dirty.

He murmurs, “ _Yuuri_ ,” and loves the way it makes Yuuri’s cheeks flush and his lips part. Yuuri looks at Victor like a gorgeous oasis amidst a grueling desert. Victor can’t help his smile. 

All at once, Yuuri untangles. He shifts from his seat amongst the roots to Victor’s side, nearly tumbling into Victor’s lap as he latches onto Victor’s shoulders. He wraps his arms thickly around Victor’s neck, legs spreading to either side of Victor’s hips, one thigh tossing over Victor’s and the other tight against his back. Yuuri’s wearing the same black coverall he always is, plain and nondescript, like all the humanoid animals of the zoo, and Victor’s never wanted to rip it off more than he does now. It clings to Yuuri’s skin, damp in places, and looks like it’s stifling him. It doesn’t do his handsome figure justice. Yuuri tilts his face to nuzzle into Victor’s, slurring, “You smell so _good_.” Victor chose a cologne with hints of maple and pine just for Yuuri. Yuuri breathes it in and drunkenly asks, “Do you like the way I smell?”

Victor hums, “Very much,” and even presses his face into Yuuri’s neck to show his sincerity. The cloying stench bubbles up even stronger, but Victor hungrily drinks it down. With Yuuri in his arms, it smells like pure _sex_. He wonders distantly if he can be affected by the pheromones of an animal. Yuuri bucks his hips against Victor and groans, then whimpers, and the smell wafts up again. 

As Victor withdraws his face, wanting to look into Yuuri’s eyes, Yuuri nips at Victor’s cheek. He drags his open mouth across Victor’s jaw, wracking a shiver through Victor’s body. Yuuri mouths at Victor’s skin, sloppy and just short of kissing—like he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to take what he wants, but wants _Victor_. He finally licks his way to Victor’s ear and growls right into, suddenly feral and alight, “ _I want to mount you_.” He nips the shell—Victor’s breath hitches. Yuuri’s hips stutter against him again, and then Yuuri tightens his grip and lifts up, trying to turn to Victor’s back, but Victor loops an arm around his middle and holds him down. Yuuri whines. 

“Now, now,” Victor scolds, wagging a finger with his free hand. Yuuri’s allure claws right under his skin, but he fights it back and tries to stay chipper, light, telling Yuuri, “I won’t take advantage of you like this.” It’s clear that Yuuri’s not in his right mind. Yuuri’s determined resolved melts into a desperate whine, and he paws at Victor’s jacket like a wailing child.

Victor lifts to pet him behind his ear, like they usually do over the fence in the regular exhibit. Yuuri leans into the touch now, like he always does, settling down and practically purring. The sounds he makes go far beyond the human range, and every one snakes through Victor’s body in honeyed delight. After a bit of innocent petting, Yuuri starts lightly humping him again and tries to nuzzle back into his palm. Then his whole arm. Then Yuuri’s snuggling into the crook of Victor’s throat again and whimpering, “Please, please... _Victor_...” It both breaks Victor’s heart and stirs his crotch when Yuuri begs for him. It seems cruel to leave him like this—Victor can feel how painfully hard he is. Victor wonders if the animals wear underwear beneath their coveralls. It doesn’t feel like Yuuri does. 

Yuuri’s staining himself with precum, and his lewd pleas become interspersed with little sobs, hands roaming all over Victor’s body. It’s all Victor can do to keep his thoughts coherent. The next time Yuuri manages, “ _Victor_ , want you...” in garbled Japanese, Victor breaks. He pulls Yuuri closer to him and presses his palm between Yuuri’s legs—Yuuri cries out happily and bucks right into him. 

It’s already crossing a line, and Victor won’t do more—even though he _wants to_ , wants Yuuri as badly as Yuuri seems to pine for him—but it’s almost enough. He cups Yuuri’s crotch and thumbs the indent of his cock, not even stroking properly, just letting Yuuri buck forward. Yuuri thrusts into Victor’s hand all on his own, doing all the work and whimpering and whinnying in alternating human and serow tones. Most of the time, his eyes are shut, but on some thrusts, they flutter open, and he looks at Victor through a thick sheet of _lust_ , like Victor’s all he’s ever wanted. 

Then Yuuri moans, “ _Victor_...” again and comes inside his trousers. Victor can feel it wetting the fabric, and Yuuri’s thrusts are twice as fast, erratic and frantic, his hands clutching Victor for dear life. He comes an absurd amount before he finally slows down, and then he slumps, collapsing into Victor’s arms and moaning happily.

He cuddles against Victor like they’re a mated pair, and still he murmurs broken pieces of Victor’s name. Victor withdraws his hand and instead rubs Yuuri’s back and fondly strokes through his hair. Victor’s never seen anything as magical as Yuuri’s afterglow, and it’s worth his own unsatisfied erection. Yuuri has him superheated.

He asks, curious, “How long do ruts last?”

Yuuri answers sleepily, “Mm... mine, only a month or two...” It doesn’t sound so bad, Victor thinks, compared to the several months true animals probably go—Phichit said it was a _season_. But for someone sentient, an entire month of sexed-up isolation sounds like torture. Oblivious to Victor’s frown, Yuuri licks Victor’s throat and asks dizzily, “Will you come back and let me breed you?”

Through a new blush, Victor promises, “I’ll come back, and we’ll talk about the rest when you’ve calmed down again.” He doesn’t want to say when Yuuri’s _normal_ , because for a serow, this _is_ normal. But it still wouldn’t feel right to Victor without a conversation first, one where Yuuri’s thinking clearly enough to know that he can’t breed Victor at all. Maybe mount him. And as thoroughly undignified as that sounds, Victor wouldn’t mind, given privacy here, or off in the white mountains of Russia, the two of them alone. 

Yuuri sings, “Okay,” and shifts to toss both legs over Victor’s lap. He curls up against Victor like they won’t make it through the winter without as much of each other’s body heat as possible. He’s nuzzling into Victor the entire time it takes him to fall asleep, and when Victor realizes that’s happening, he pets Yuuri and quietly waits it out. 

He hates that this can’t last. But when Yuuri’s drifted off, he knows he has to go. Phichit will come for him if he doesn’t, or worse, another staff member, and then he won’t be able to fulfill his promise to visit Yuuri here again—not until the breeding season’s over. Victor’s not willing to wait. He places a chaste kiss to Yuuri’s forehead, and then he detangles himself, forlornly rising up. Yuuri’s left to slump against the nearest tree trunk instead. It’s not the same.

When he reaches the door, Phichit’s leaning against it, buried in his phone, but he looks up at Victor to nod and brush right past. Victor waits as Phichit wades off through the miniature forest, only to return a minute later and nod, evidently having checked on Yuuri. Victor’s grateful they got what privacy they could. He and Phichit step back onto the other side of the enclosure, and Phichit lets out a long breath once the door’s secured again. 

He tells Victor, “You made it a long time in there! But I’m glad for it—I haven’t seen Yuuri sleep that peacefully in weeks.” Phichit gives Victor a winning smile and doesn’t ask what he did. Victor smiles back, even though there’s a pit in the center of his stomach. 

As they sneak back out of the building, Phichit quietly asks, “Will you come visit him again? I’ll smuggle you in. He could be all alone for another month otherwise...”

“I will,” Victor promises, and then he gives Phichit his number to call if Yuuri asks for him. He wonders if he could give Yuuri a cell phone. It probably be against zoo policy. And maybe Yuuri wouldn’t want it. The animals don’t seem very interested in technology. But Phichit eagerly gives Victor his number in return and says they’ll work it out. He seems nice, and by the time he lets Victor out of the zoo, the place is shutting down for the night, handlers coming out of the woodwork to see to their exhibits. The blond tiger’s demanding pastries so loud that Victor can hear it from the main gate, with interspersed exasperation from the handlers who say people food isn’t for tiger stomachs. Phichit laughs and says that grumpy tiger’s their number one attraction.

Not Yuuri. People don’t come to see the quieter beasts that drift peacefully through the forests. Victor knows he’ll come back just for that. And the entire time he’s walking to his car, he’s doing mental gymnastics to try and figure out how the hell to get Yuuri free and safe.


End file.
